LOG; of my little girl affections; OPHELIA + PORTIA
who; Ophelia and Portia, mentions of Laertes.
what; A phone call.
when; Last night (Sunday).
Portia lay on a pile of pillows on the floor in her very sparsely decorated apartment, idly picking at the seams of a teddy bear that someone had been silly enough to assume she would be diverted by.
"Ophelia," she murmured, standing up to study her appearance in the mirror. She touched the reflection, her fingers lingering longest over the corners of the eyes and lips. "Ophelia."
Several seconds later she was again flopped across the pillows, cradling her cell phone to her cheek as it rang once, twice...
They'd gone to bed early that night, around seven or eight - unusual, especially for Ophelia who usually stayed up until the early hours of the morning. She was tired, and that was all the explanation she'd given her brother, who hadn't questioned any further. When her phone began ringing, her eyes flew open as she quickly got out of bed, being careful not to wake her brother. Grabbing a light jacket and the phone, she stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Clearing her throat, she answered the phone.
"Hello?" Ophelia didn't recognize the phone number, nor was she happy about being woken. She shivered slightly; the bed had been much warmer.
She sounded sleepy. Portia sighed happilly. "Oh O-phe-li-a. I've been thinking about you all evening. I had ice cream for dinner and it reminded me of you. We really musn't go for so many hours without speaking."
The timer dinged and Portia bent to pull her cookies out of the over. They were charred and black. Sighing again, she dumped them all into the trash. "I'm so hungry. What are you doing?"
"Then eat," she said flatly. "It's none of my concern."
She walked further down the hall, lightly touching the wall with one hand.
"How did you get this number, and what do you want." Rubbing her eyes blearily, she walked down the stairs, feeling a little hungry herself.
"You're so cold," complained Portia. "Aren't we sisters? Aren't we lovers?"
Before Ophelia could bite back an answer she continued, "Remember this afternoon when your napkins blew away and you had to chase after them because you aren't a litter bug? It was so cute... Ophelia, you can run so fast..." Portia threw the cookie tray into the sink where it clattered noisily. "Oh but, I got your number from your phone then."
....
"I see." Ophelia didn't even bother trying to tell her that she had done no such thing. The girl was obviously insane. Insane and deluded. She would have to change her number, or never pick up if Portia ever called again.
She was downstairs now, and her bare feet were cold on the wooden floor. Flipping on the light switch, she stepped into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator.
"Why are you calling, Portia."
"I simply wanted to see what you were doing and to tell you that I've made my hair like yours and that I'm bored and hungry," answered Portia lightly.
She didn't mind if Ophelia brushed her off. In fact it made things more and more fun. Talking with Ophelia was just like playing tag.
"If that's all, I'll be hanging up now." She looked blandly at the food that was inside the fridge before shutting the door again - Ophelia was hungry, but more tired than hungry, and she could just wait until morning to eat.
"Of course that's not all..." Portia paused to think. "What's... what's your... favorite... color?"
"Red," she answered, without giving it much real thought. Her favorite color was probably black; it was practical and hid stains well, not that she thought of colors or favorites very often. If at all.
"Good night," she said suddenly, finding that she had no more patience to talk to Portia any longer. Turning her phone off, she walked upstairs and tread quietly back into her room, setting her phone on the table. Ophelia lifted the covers and slid back under, pushing Laertes to the side slightly to make room for herself.
It wasn't long before she drifted back asleep.
what; A phone call.
when; Last night (Sunday).
Portia lay on a pile of pillows on the floor in her very sparsely decorated apartment, idly picking at the seams of a teddy bear that someone had been silly enough to assume she would be diverted by.
"Ophelia," she murmured, standing up to study her appearance in the mirror. She touched the reflection, her fingers lingering longest over the corners of the eyes and lips. "Ophelia."
Several seconds later she was again flopped across the pillows, cradling her cell phone to her cheek as it rang once, twice...
They'd gone to bed early that night, around seven or eight - unusual, especially for Ophelia who usually stayed up until the early hours of the morning. She was tired, and that was all the explanation she'd given her brother, who hadn't questioned any further. When her phone began ringing, her eyes flew open as she quickly got out of bed, being careful not to wake her brother. Grabbing a light jacket and the phone, she stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Clearing her throat, she answered the phone.
"Hello?" Ophelia didn't recognize the phone number, nor was she happy about being woken. She shivered slightly; the bed had been much warmer.
She sounded sleepy. Portia sighed happilly. "Oh O-phe-li-a. I've been thinking about you all evening. I had ice cream for dinner and it reminded me of you. We really musn't go for so many hours without speaking."
The timer dinged and Portia bent to pull her cookies out of the over. They were charred and black. Sighing again, she dumped them all into the trash. "I'm so hungry. What are you doing?"
"Then eat," she said flatly. "It's none of my concern."
She walked further down the hall, lightly touching the wall with one hand.
"How did you get this number, and what do you want." Rubbing her eyes blearily, she walked down the stairs, feeling a little hungry herself.
"You're so cold," complained Portia. "Aren't we sisters? Aren't we lovers?"
Before Ophelia could bite back an answer she continued, "Remember this afternoon when your napkins blew away and you had to chase after them because you aren't a litter bug? It was so cute... Ophelia, you can run so fast..." Portia threw the cookie tray into the sink where it clattered noisily. "Oh but, I got your number from your phone then."
....
"I see." Ophelia didn't even bother trying to tell her that she had done no such thing. The girl was obviously insane. Insane and deluded. She would have to change her number, or never pick up if Portia ever called again.
She was downstairs now, and her bare feet were cold on the wooden floor. Flipping on the light switch, she stepped into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator.
"Why are you calling, Portia."
"I simply wanted to see what you were doing and to tell you that I've made my hair like yours and that I'm bored and hungry," answered Portia lightly.
She didn't mind if Ophelia brushed her off. In fact it made things more and more fun. Talking with Ophelia was just like playing tag.
"If that's all, I'll be hanging up now." She looked blandly at the food that was inside the fridge before shutting the door again - Ophelia was hungry, but more tired than hungry, and she could just wait until morning to eat.
"Of course that's not all..." Portia paused to think. "What's... what's your... favorite... color?"
"Red," she answered, without giving it much real thought. Her favorite color was probably black; it was practical and hid stains well, not that she thought of colors or favorites very often. If at all.
"Good night," she said suddenly, finding that she had no more patience to talk to Portia any longer. Turning her phone off, she walked upstairs and tread quietly back into her room, setting her phone on the table. Ophelia lifted the covers and slid back under, pushing Laertes to the side slightly to make room for herself.
It wasn't long before she drifted back asleep.